Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
It took them three hours to get back.
Breakfast consisted of black coffee and five bread rolls between the eleven of them.
Nikolas rolled his eyes at the blatant manipulation.
What did they expect them to do? Break down and murder each other for a bread roll?
He waved his portion away and let Ben eat it.
He liked being hungry. Hunger assuaged the need in him to let loose and fly free, be what he truly was.
It was his control mechanism, and he could still bring it into play when he needed it.
They all expected to be released for showers and sleep, so the arrival of the good doctor with his clipboard was unwelcome in the extreme.
He listened to their complaints with total equanimity, then asked them if they wanted to get on with the programme.
As he reminded them, they’d signed up to it.
The only way to not sit down and continue was to get in their vehicles and leave.
They’d burnt their programmes on the fire the previous night, which raised a little chorus of cheers, but after a few more complaints, they dragged their chairs back into a circle.
The doctor smiled at them. They must have appeared an extremely odd therapy group. They were universally filthy, unshaven and smelt bad. Nikolas was actually slightly worried about Ben, for he was blinking constantly, rubbing his eyes. He leant over. “Take the fucking things out.”
“I can’t, I—”
“Ben, after last night, even I’m beginning to suspect you were never in Special Forces. I think you’ll be safe to admit to green eyes.”
Ben appeared to debate internally for a while, but just as the doctor was about to begin, he stood up and announced he had to visit the bathroom.
The doctor narrowed his eyes and almost seemed about to refuse him permission to leave.
Ben shrugged and began to unbutton there and then.
“I’ve pissed in stranger places before.” He was rapidly waved towards the door.
He left to a chorus of whoops and hollers of encouragement and congratulation.
* * *
Green eyes restored, and greatly cheered up by getting the sandpaper out, Ben studied his reflection in the mirror.
It wasn’t looking good. His stubble was black, which was extremely incongruous with the blond goatee.
He pulled out the diamond stud as well, sick of feeling it there, wincing at the way it stuck and came out with pus.
He was totally fed up with this whole business now.
He was very tempted to admit it to Nikolas as well.
But he also knew the only way they would discover why some men had stayed for an additional three weeks, and therefore presumably find out what Squeezy was doing, was to stick out this first week.
Something suddenly struck him. There had been no guards at the end of the corridor.
Clearly all the inmates were supposed to be in lock down with their therapists.
He eased the door open. Still clear. Very quickly, he passed through the door at the end and found himself in the administration area—offices on each side, and then another door, which led to the kitchens.
He passed swiftly through and startled the young man who was laying up trays with coffee cups and biscuits.
He glanced up and muttered something, clearly not expecting to be understood because he spoke in Urdu.
Ben grinned. He quickly pulled out Squeezy’s picture—it was one Nikolas had taken of him with Squeezy, drinking one night, arms around each other, grinning inanely into the camera.
The man studied at it at the same time as nervously watching the door.
He seemed about to deny anything and everything, but then his eyes lit up and he cried,
“Fucking fucky fuck.” Ben laughed out loud and confided in Urdu, “He friend. He missing.”
The man ran off a quick string of something that Ben only caught a word or two of.
“Fuck! Slow down!”
The man grinned again nodding. “Fuck fuck fucking fucky fuck.” He spoke more slowly then. “Fucky fuck in pub. Ask here. I tell water house.”
“What? What’s—?” There were voices in the corridor. Ben slid behind the door, finger to lips.
The man waited a moment and then tipped the entire tray of cups onto the floor. It fell with a vast smash of breaking china. Two men in dark suits ran in, and as they made their way over to the mess, Ben slipped silent and unseen into the corridor.
When he arrived back in the room, he thought everyone was dead for a moment, but Nikolas cranked open one eye and confessed drolly, “We’re meditating.
Nice eyes, by the way.” Someone had fetched Nikolas a T-shirt, which was too small for him and consequently tight across his muscles. He looked edible in it.
Ben leant close to his ear. “Do you speak Urdu?”
Nik wobbled his hand. “Some. Why?”
“Guy in the kitchen reckoned Squeezy spoke to him in the pub. We need to ask him more. I think he’ll bring the coffee in.”
“Okay. Are you sure it was Squeezy?”
Ben only snorted.
He was in an agony of impatience now. Meditating was the last thing he wanted to do, but he surprised himself by finding it quite easy.
Nikolas had to wake him up.
* * *
When the doctor returned, he appeared strained. He waited until everyone was focused on him.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. You’ve made significant strides towards filling in that pathway to your destination.” Nikolas could have laughed at Lincoln’s expression, but then Lester was sitting with Samuel, making a new journey, apparently.
“Yesterday this room was covered in a coating of ice. I spoke of an icebreaker metaphorically, but last night proved the ice between us was more than that—it was tangible. Do you feel it’s gone now?
I feel warmth, a sense of closeness. We’re going to build on that.
I want each of you to think of a secret.
Something your partner doesn’t know about you—something you’ve deliberately kept from them.
” How Nikolas resisted turning to Ben he didn’t know.
“Think of this secret and ponder why you’ve kept it.
Then you’re going to tell it to us all here in this very special, safe room.
Those of you without a partner, you’ll be telling yourself this secret as much as us.
Think about why you keep this self-knowledge buried so deeply.
I’ll give you all a few moments to prepare. ”
There was a universal flicking of eyes between couples and some very nervous laughs. The doctor consulted his clipboard.
“Nigel, would you like to share first?”
No, he wouldn’t.
“Nigel?”
Nikolas looked up and around the room and began to address them but then twisted around to Ben as he spoke.
“Do you remember my friend Gregory?” Ben’s eyes narrowed. His face paled slightly, probably not noticeable to anyone else—but Nikolas saw it.
“Do you remember we went on holiday together?” Ben nodded, completely silent.
“I promised you I wouldn’t fuck him…”
Ben began to rise automatically: fight or flight apparently kicking in before he could stop himself.
Nikolas laid a hand on his arm. “I kept my promise. I swear to you I kept my promise, and I didn’t let him touch me the whole time we were away.
” He licked his lips a little but held Ben’s gaze.
“But I let him watch me when I…I don’t think that broke our agreement at all, but I feel bad about it, because I don’t let you watch—but then he was old and dying and you’re not. ”
* * *
The silence was thick, almost painful, like the pressure before the tsunami. Fergus didn’t need to call on Ben to respond with his secret, because Ben, keeping Nikolas’s gaze, replied deceptively evenly,
“Do you remember Natasha?” All eyebrows shot up at that. “Well coke wasn’t the only thing I let her blow.”
The silence was broken by the sound of one or two jaws dropping.
Ben was impressed that not a flicker of reaction passed across Nikolas’s face. The temperature in the room had plummeted, but apparently he was the only one who felt this.
Fergus coughed lightly. “Okay…Well, err…hold that thought. Um…John?”
John shook himself. “Oh, yes, I was going to tell you, Mark, I sometimes don’t rinse the plates before I put them in the dishwasher, even though you nag me to…”
“God, yes, I was going to tell you I forgot to take your library books back for three months and kept lying to you saying I had…”
The chorus of confessions continued in a similar vein, each man sounding relieved and embarrassed in equal measure that their sins were so trivial, so domestic.
One even confessed to secretly owning an original series Star Trek tricorder.
They were all clearly ignoring the thunderclouds over the couple sitting with folded arms and stony expressions in their midst.
The doctor nodded when the last of the confessions was done. “Now, reflect on why you kept those little…well, why you held those things inside. How do you feel now?”
No one glanced in the direction they likely all wanted to.
“All right. I want to move on now. I think that might be best…Predictably, when I tell you all you’re going to get a sumptuous dinner tonight—there you go, exactly, you always all cheer…
but this is going to be a dinner with a difference.
You have to pair off for an intimate dining experience but not,” he held them all riveted with a gleeful, expectant pause, “with your own partners. Now, I know you’re going to find choosing very hard—”
“I’ll take James.”
“I’ll take Samuel.”
Nikolas and Ben had made the exchange and dragged their chairs over to their new places before the others had time to process the interruption. Arms were folded again and stony expressions resumed.
“Oh, well, in that case perhaps the rest of you would like to…” Nervous shuffling, like children in a school playground desperate not to be left to last, ensured even the most reluctant to pair off eventually did.